"So what has been going on in your life?"
She asked it and at first, I had hoped she was only being polite. After all, she hadn't visited since June and that was the proper question to politely pose.
There were distractions all around. People laughing, a tree being decorated, Christmas music playing, and I figured I stood a good chance at evading an answer to the question. I knew she knew me well enough to not just be content with "good" as an answer. I could count on that a trite answer would only be accompanied by the response "So unpack that for me."
At first it looked as though my non-verbal response would blend into the evening's activities, but then she sat atop the counter, and looking at me asked again "So really. What's been going on in your life."
In that moment, a million thoughts flooded my mind as I attempted to formulate a facade that would answer the question without ever delving into my heart. Because candidly, my heart is a broken and dark place.
I began with hesitation to explain, like I would to a visitor on a Sunday morning at church, what had transpired in my life since June when we last talked. She quickly interjected with "Be real with me."
Be real.
The real me would be a stranger to her. She last knew me as fun, joyful, and full of life and excitement for the Lord. She last saw me passionate about people and intentional about investing in relationships.
Be real.
The real me was but a starving shadow of the old me. It's something I abhor about this season, but something I cannot seem to change.
Be real.
We served in ministry together. We served the local church together. We were college leaders together. We prayed together. We worshiped together. We talked doctrine together. We lived in community together.
Be real.
"This season has been difficult" I began.
Perhaps it was the change in my voice. Or maybe it was the fact that I had stopped looking at her. Or possibly it was the craziness of the events juxtaposed around us, but she lead me into the other room where we sat in the darkness at the dinning room table and I... I was real with her.
And as I talked she listened. She wasn't shocked by anything I said. She didn't even seem surprised when I found myself unable to clearly articulate my thoughts amidst tears. She just listened.
And then she shared her story. She shared her walk. She shared scripture. She shared Jesus.
And it was now my turn to listen as she was real with me.
"You can escape where you're living, but you can't escape your heart. The problem isn't the location. The problem is your heart."
The problem isn't the location. The problem is your heart.
I fought back tears as she so clearly articulated the heaviness of my soul and reminded me that a new location wasn't going to solve all my problems. Perhaps it could help some. But dealing with my heart before the Lord was the answer.
"God may never give you the dreams of your heart, but He will always be faithful to you."
And the sting of hearing about dreams, my dreams, possibly never happening... why it was this very thing, failed dreams and hopes, that had lead me like a faithful map to this very season. And in some small way, like a fading light, I guess there was a part of my heart that tried keeping the hope of these dreams alive.
Like ointment on a wound, the sting of it is excruciating. But the pain in necessary for healing.
And although I didn't want to hear about God possibly never giving me the dreams of my heart, it was needed. And accompanied with words of His faithfulness towards me, these were the things I needed to hear.
I say this intellectually. My heart is still calloused with disappointments. But I know these words are needed.
She ended the conversation with prayer. She hugged me and we returned to the festive excitement of friends laughing.
And just like many years ago when we served in college ministry together, community was built.
She asked it and at first, I had hoped she was only being polite. After all, she hadn't visited since June and that was the proper question to politely pose.
There were distractions all around. People laughing, a tree being decorated, Christmas music playing, and I figured I stood a good chance at evading an answer to the question. I knew she knew me well enough to not just be content with "good" as an answer. I could count on that a trite answer would only be accompanied by the response "So unpack that for me."
At first it looked as though my non-verbal response would blend into the evening's activities, but then she sat atop the counter, and looking at me asked again "So really. What's been going on in your life."
In that moment, a million thoughts flooded my mind as I attempted to formulate a facade that would answer the question without ever delving into my heart. Because candidly, my heart is a broken and dark place.
I began with hesitation to explain, like I would to a visitor on a Sunday morning at church, what had transpired in my life since June when we last talked. She quickly interjected with "Be real with me."
Be real.
The real me would be a stranger to her. She last knew me as fun, joyful, and full of life and excitement for the Lord. She last saw me passionate about people and intentional about investing in relationships.
Be real.
The real me was but a starving shadow of the old me. It's something I abhor about this season, but something I cannot seem to change.
Be real.
We served in ministry together. We served the local church together. We were college leaders together. We prayed together. We worshiped together. We talked doctrine together. We lived in community together.
Be real.
"This season has been difficult" I began.
Perhaps it was the change in my voice. Or maybe it was the fact that I had stopped looking at her. Or possibly it was the craziness of the events juxtaposed around us, but she lead me into the other room where we sat in the darkness at the dinning room table and I... I was real with her.
And as I talked she listened. She wasn't shocked by anything I said. She didn't even seem surprised when I found myself unable to clearly articulate my thoughts amidst tears. She just listened.
And then she shared her story. She shared her walk. She shared scripture. She shared Jesus.
And it was now my turn to listen as she was real with me.
"You can escape where you're living, but you can't escape your heart. The problem isn't the location. The problem is your heart."
The problem isn't the location. The problem is your heart.
I fought back tears as she so clearly articulated the heaviness of my soul and reminded me that a new location wasn't going to solve all my problems. Perhaps it could help some. But dealing with my heart before the Lord was the answer.
"God may never give you the dreams of your heart, but He will always be faithful to you."
And the sting of hearing about dreams, my dreams, possibly never happening... why it was this very thing, failed dreams and hopes, that had lead me like a faithful map to this very season. And in some small way, like a fading light, I guess there was a part of my heart that tried keeping the hope of these dreams alive.
Like ointment on a wound, the sting of it is excruciating. But the pain in necessary for healing.
And although I didn't want to hear about God possibly never giving me the dreams of my heart, it was needed. And accompanied with words of His faithfulness towards me, these were the things I needed to hear.
I say this intellectually. My heart is still calloused with disappointments. But I know these words are needed.
She ended the conversation with prayer. She hugged me and we returned to the festive excitement of friends laughing.
And just like many years ago when we served in college ministry together, community was built.
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